Tornado Allie

Every time Ghirahim looked his master’s way, his mind summoned images of that jagged, bloody line which he struggled to dispel. The sight of mortal blood shouldn’t have disturbed a weapon such as himself, but that mortality was something Ghirahim would have to adopt as if it were his own if he wanted Yuga to survive under his servitude. That aspect was a concept the demon ruminated over again and again; he had to remember he was mentoring someone who could be felled by even the simplest of daggers in the end. Unlike Demise, Yuga’s fragile skin wasn’t protected beneath a coat of shimmering obsidian scales. Pity was the wrong word to describe how the demon felt about his master’s glaring vulnerability- his gut steeled with a primal instinct to protect the sorcerer above all else.

“Again,” Ghirahim instructed Yuga to rerun a curated series of practiced strikes for the umpteenth repetition. His master obeyed dutifully, although fatigue plagued his body and dulled his precision. The sorcerer swayed on his feet and paused to wipe his face with a sleeve. That act alone sent his arm muscles into spasms.

“A break is in order, don't you think?” Yuga gave his companion a weary look. “We've been at this for quite a while…”

“There may not be potions on the battlefield,” answered Ghirahim rigidly. “You must perfect these techniques if you want to stand a chance against a seasoned swordsman.”

Ghirahim had been like this since Yuga's chance encounter with Link. Yuga took a long sideways glance at the demon, his posture loosening slightly. Ghirahim's tone had radiated an odd agitation instead of his typically suave, confident persona. The demon’s militant countenance couldn't disguise his pervading anxiety. 

Yuga laid his training sword in the grass and strolled over to sit, his back resting against the courtyard fountain basin. He patted the spot beside him. Ghirahim wordlessly accepted the offer and joined him with a sigh. 

“I shall become the swordsman you envision in due time,” Yuga smiled. “With such a tutor, how could I not?” Although appreciated, his words did little to assuage the sword spirit's concerns. Ghirahim's previous master had seemed all-powerful, but even he could not stand against the hero's courage and survive.

“I cannot lose another master,” said Ghirahim.

“You won't. I am Lorule's strongest mage and you are the great demon sword,” Yuga replied with a hand on his companion's arm. “We’ll teach that pathetic worm his place and the triforce will be ours. You must have faith.” 

Gradually, Ghirahim’s expression eased into a muted smile. He clasped Yuga’s hand for a moment and gave his knuckles a small squeeze. Whether Yuga’s odds of triumph were good or not, moments like this reinforced that he was worthy of Ghirahim’s commitment regardless. Since day one, Yuga’s gaze wasn’t that of a foreboding master but rather the soft, knowing look of an equal. A partner. It was something Ghirahim never knew he was missing. 

The pair turned in for the day, heading back into the castle corridors so Yuga could recover from his meticulous practice. Proper rest would also help the sorcerer prepare for future fights. He certainly deserved it. Minutes before reaching Yuga’s room, however, a burst of magic enveloped Ghirahim and paralyzed him midstep. The demon hissed, the coursing light binding him in place. Yuga turned on his heels to face the culprit. 

“What is your business here, stranger?” Asked a young woman with long, raven hair. She wielded a staff similar to that of Yuga’s and her dress bore a striking resemblance to that of the Zelda painting. Ghirahim recognized her by Yuga’s prior descriptions, down to her pallid demeanor- Princess Hilda. So much for keeping Ghirahim a secret.

“We don’t tolerate intruders. Speak or you will be dealt with accordingly.”

“Easy now, Your Grace,” Yuga piped up instantly and stepped between the two. “This fellow is my esteemed guest, I assure you.” His voice wavered between a proclamation and a plea.

Hilda eyed her advisor and his supposed friend before lowering her weapon, releasing Ghirahim from her spell. The demon made sure to keep his expression tame and limited under her scrutiny; he dipped into a bow, much to Yuga’s relief.

“An honor to make your acquaintance,” said Ghirahim. More cold silence from the princess. They could practically sense calculations happening behind her solemn ruby eyes. The stranger’s appearance was so foreign from her people, she wasn’t even sure he was human. Yuga treated his presence as perfectly natural though. Her brow furrowed.

“Please avoid hosting other guests without my knowledge. We must keep the castle secure,” Hilda frowned at Yuga before finally taking her leave. The sorcerer and demon barely waited for her to disappear around a corner before shutting themselves in Yuga’s chambers. The disparity between Hilda’s personality and her goals surprised Ghirahim; her aim was pure but she was such a cold fish. No wonder Yuga wanted to keep Hilda from meeting Ghirahim for so long. Ghirahim mentally noted the strength and magical prowess the princess displayed just from that one interaction; her wariness towards even her trusted advisor could become a threat if conditions demanded it. She was far too paranoid for the demon’s liking. In the stillness of the room, Yuga noticed the hardening look on his companion’s face and chuckled dryly. 

“She runs a tight ship,” the sorcerer shook his head. “But if all goes to plan, that shouldn’t be a problem for too much longer.” Yuga was lucky that Ghirahim could be so patient and that he liked him so much. 

The first substantial rays of morning light heralded an unpleasant surprise for the castle residents. Armored guards rushed to the main doors when a cacophony of echoing bangs rattled the nearby sconces, awakening everyone at once. Guttural snarls and hisses lashed out from behind the thick wood as the few guards to arrive pressed themselves against the doors in an attempt to keep them from opening. 

Ghirahim summoned a handful of throwing daggers and watched the bedroom door as Yuga stumbled from bed to throw on his clothes and fetch his staff. Despite her sheer power, a pair of personal knights sequestered Hilda in a safe room deeper into the heart of the castle due to her status. Whoever prepared in time would be all the castle had for defense. 

The instant Yuga was ready, Ghirahim took his hand and they teleported a short distance from the entrance hall to investigate the disturbance together. The grand doors burst inward on the guards from the shoving throng of monsters on the other side. A horde rushed the hall. Torchlight gleamed off the chest plates and broad rusted shields of moblins who knocked the Lorulean guards from their feet with ease. A line of stalfos marched onward behind them, their crooked swords clashing loudly against their enemies’ weapons. Ghirahim felled some with well-timed throwing blades to the skeletal soldiers’ rickety joints. The undead collapsed into piles of immobile limbs that threatened to trip any unobservant fighter. Yuga fired technicolor flames at the advancing onslaught, a few blazes transfixing a couple monsters to the walls as hideous splashes of paint. Those would have to be scrubbed from the stone bricks eventually. 

One of the moblins leapt at Yuga who narrowly evaded its unceremonious belly flop. The reverberations shook the area, upending a torch from its place and setting a nearby tapestry ablaze. Smoke billowed to the ceiling in black plumes that stung the eyes and lungs of the soldiers, human and monster alike. Ghirahim continued to mow down oncoming creatures unaffected, which allowed the guards to start fighting back themselves. The onslaught soon thinned out until the band of monsters lay slain where they once stood, inanimate stalfos bones strewn about the floor. 

“The kingdom grows more restless by the day,” Hilda’s voice rang out clearly in the silence, drawing the attention of her defenders. She centered her gaze on her advisor. “Forget the sages, just focus on getting the triforce of courage from its current wielder. That should be enough. We’re running out of time.” 

While the guards rushed to smother the remaining flames and fasten the busted castle doors back into place for the time being, Yuga bowed low to the princess.

“Yes, Your Grace.” He couldn’t simply refuse the order, even if he wasn’t certain he was prepared to perform such a task. Ghirahim stiffened beside him, bristling from the manner in which the princess chose to address the sorcerer. Of course she would dole out further orders immediately after Yuga fended off an invasion. It didn’t help that Hilda hadn’t paid Ghirahim’s presence or contribution any mind either. How convenient.

“You’re very welcome,” Ghirahim muttered under his breath after her.

That day’s sword training was just as solemn as the previous one, perhaps even more if that was possible. Despite the lack of proper preparation and experience, Yuga had brought the great demon sword with him to practice handling. Being woken up earlier than anticipated by that morning ambush did him no favors. He was becoming well-versed in standard swordplay though, so Ghirahim didn’t push him as hard as he’d done the previous day. 

A light tingling sensation danced along Ghirahim’s skin as soon as his master held the weapon, the core of Ghirahim’s being, in his hands. Added to his mounting concern over Yuga’s next battle, the restless energy caused Ghirahim to shiver. His master was finally using him and he couldn’t muster any excitement about it. 

Ghirahim lounged on a velvet-backed chair as his new master meticulously committed every little detail to a fresh canvas. Yuga took numerous glances at the subject of his newest masterpiece from behind his easel, preferring a manual brush and paints over his staff for once. This piece deserved the time and dedication required to capture its essence. The demon practically glowed from the undivided attention, maintaining a perfect, statuesque pose as his likeness took shape. Yuga's artful watch was the first to ever truly devote itself to Ghirahim's appearance- something the demon admittedly didn't receive from Demise, and certainly not from his adversaries. To actually be looked upon with the admiration he always thought he deserved felt alien. 

Flattered as he was, something stirred within Ghirahim's chest; for as long as he'd resided in Lorule, he had yet to cause any bloodshed. How ironic that he was merely a weapon to his first master, and a thing of beauty to his second. He didn't wish to seem ungrateful, but a frown wormed its way onto his face.

“Why not let me dispose of the rest of those pesky sages for you?” Ghirahim asked lazily. “It would be my pleasure.”

“They will be preserved forever in my gallery, and in turn I will possess their power,” answered Yuga without breaking focus. “Killing them would waste their beauty.”

Ghirahim had heard that one before. He exhaled sharply as if to dispel the disappointment and restlessness, and deflated slightly. Not using his battle prowess was a waste. The demon's thoughts scattered when someone knocked harshly on the sorcerer’s door. Ghirahim automatically dissipated his form in a burst of diamonds, returning to his place in the black sword stuffed beneath Yuga’s bed. It was quite the unbecoming position but he wouldn’t complain out loud yet; at least he could still eavesdrop from the darkness.

“Report,” came a young woman’s voice after the door creaked open. “Tell me why you fled Hyrule so soon. Did you secure their princess?”

“That wriggling worm got his hands on a special new blade,” Yuga admitted, finding his words carefully. His voice stung bitterly at mentioning it. “But fret not, Your Grace. Zelda made for the perfect addition to my collection.” The sorcerer made a grand gesture towards a new wall decoration framed in gold that depicted a blonde maiden, her dress adorned with emblems of the triforce. That seemed to satisfy Yuga’s superior because the door closed, signaling her departure. 

Zelda… of course. It was clear now why Yuga treated it so delicately when he’d hung the painting beside the last few sages he captured. The name stoked a fire in Ghirahim. If that girl was in this dimension, then he knew enough about the nuisance hindering his master’s plans. The demon appeared as quickly as he’d hidden himself, holding his own sword aloft at Yuga. The sorcerer flinched.

“Your magic tricks won’t stand a chance against the blade of evil’s bane,” said Ghirahim. His voice lowered in a manner that both threatened and enticed Yuga. “You need something that can match its raw power. So… shall we?”

The air clung heavily and dripped condensation from the stony courtyard walls. Petrified brambles ensnared a crumbling fountain, its basin littered with damp leaves and thorns. Yuga stood holding the demon sword under the close supervision of his companion, his grip already instructed into a better orientation. He moved to take a practice swing and learn the weapon’s weight, but no matter how hard his biceps worked, the blade tip remained firmly in the grass. The sorcerer tried and tried, setting his feet wide apart and digging his heels into the ground for better leverage to no avail. Ghirahim’s eyes narrowed. He placed a gloved hand on Yuga’s shoulder to stop his master from utterly exhausting himself. 

After a beat of silence, the demon’s composure devolved into a fit of laughter that earned him a hearty scowl. Yuga resumed a regal sort of posture and smoothed his hair with a hand, obvious embarrassment splashed across his face.

“Too heavy for you?” Ghirahim asked anyway. He materialized a curved, black saber with the snap of his fingers and offered it instead. “Here. This will do for now.”

Yuga grumbled a ‘thank you’ and wielded the substitute weapon with ease. Relying on spells meant effective long-distance attacks, but his enemy preferred close-quarters combat- that moment when Link drew too near was a critical weakness he had to eliminate. For hours, the sorcerer learned various swordplay techniques from the living weapon, from different offensive slashes to methods of blocking. Yuga began as clumsily as a child swinging a long stick around without a target, but Ghirahim was determined to make him a swordsman. Firm words of encouragement spurred the practice onward.

As the pair continued to practice together, their movements synced and it felt more like a game shared between them. The demon cut the air in a series of slashes his trainee would attempt to match in speed and precision, the difficulty gradually amping up. Their session came to a close when Yuga took a pause to rest, fanning himself with one hand and restraining his curls back with the other. A fatigued smile graced his lips in place of any past grouchiness. 

He'd thought he caught Ghirahim staring his way throughout the training session, but now the demon stood before him, fixing him with a satisfied gaze. Those dark, sharp eyes seemed to sparkle with a mixture of pride, admiration and something playful. 

“Excellent work,” Ghirahim strode forward and kissed his master on the cheek. “We’ll continue tomorrow. Does that suit you?”

All Yuga could do was nod vigorously. 

After another riveting swordfighting lesson in the courtyard, Yuga bid his companion adieu to intercept another Lorulean sage and continue his conquest for power. Spending time in the castle had never been exciting before he and Ghirahim found each other, so the promise of a fresh masterpiece to hang on his wall didn't abate the pang of guilt nestled in his chest. It wasn't that Yuga didn't want Ghirahim's aid in the heat of battle- the sorcerer feared that if Princess Hilda noticed his shiny new weapon, she'd attempt to take it for herself. She wasn’t above doing anything for the sake of her kingdom. That, and not knowing what else Yuga had up his sleeve would make Link underestimate him later. 

Reaching his destination took Yuga the better part of a day; he refused to hire a carriage or anything of the sort to keep his travel discreet. He opted to walk, keeping to the shadows to bypass strangers and monsters alike. The shroud of a dark shawl cloaked Yuga's striking appearance to prevent nosy onlookers from recognizing him. 

When he arrived at a shabby hut, Yuga wasted no time on pleasantries; the sorcerer stepped inside, located his sagely target and fired his staff. The young, blue-haired apprentice witch didn't stand a chance against the attack.

“Irene!” An old hag wailed from behind a wooden countertop of potion bottles. She cowered and trembled as Yuga hitched the painting of her granddaughter under his arm and exited without sparing her a second glance. Now he just had to make the trek back from whence he came to finish his heist.

Yuga toted his contraband under his cloak and secured the hood over his head. The streets were mostly deserted, so he no longer snuck along the sidelines as he had on the journey there. Waning dusky light guided his path, barely illuminating his imposing residence on the horizon. It looked as if the castle spires impaled the drifting clouds from such a distance.

Someone stepped onto the footpath in front of Yuga. The intrusion stopped the sorcerer instantly. In the dim twilight, he noted the figures short stature and widening stance. One slow movement revealed the glint of the master sword. Its brilliance easily stood out.

Yuga leapt backwards and produced his staff just in time to block an overhead strike. Too close. He had to put space between them, but there was nothing nearby to use as a temporary shield or hiding spot to charge his spells. The hero was after the painting he grasped so tightly; Link surely wouldn't swipe at that, but Yuga would never dare risk its safety. He staggered to one side to avoid getting cleaved in twain and fired an errant spell that overshot Link's head. The spry swordsman continued his onslaught without rest. It was as if his muscles fired automatically, swinging relentlessly after his enemy. The painting slipped from Yuga's grip and fell onto the grass. Turning to lunge for it, a fiery sting ripped its way across his back that had him crumpling to the ground. 

Link hustled to rescue the girl from her fate on the canvas, leaving his opponent to retreat. The dry grass scratched against Yuga’s face as he dragged himself to an upright position, a cold sensation pooling down his shoulder blades that he tried to ignore. He shuddered with the effort of standing and ambling onward towards home, his arms bereft of his latest work. Thank the goddesses Link didn’t pursue him any further, caring more about the girl in the end. 

The castle halls seemed to stretch on endlessly as Yuga leaned on the wall for support, bracing his forearm against the cold stone bricks. Waves of sharp pain ebbed from his spine with every step. He paused a few times just to catch his breath. The sight of his bedroom door couldn’t arrive soon enough. 

Ghirahim sprung to greet Yuga at the door but found himself keeping his master from hitting the floor, propping him up against his chest. His white gloves came away stained red from the back of Yuga’s robes- the only blood he’d seen in ages. The first blood he didn’t revel in, but rather cried out in horror and rage. He brought Yuga to sit and held the man’s hair off of his wound; one long, thin slash etched from his lower spine to his right shoulder. 

“I may have… a spare potion,” Yuga pointed to a bedside table. Ghirahim instantly went to it, shoving everything else aside to find an old bottle full of sparkling scarlet liquid. The demon suddenly appeared in front of Yuga once more, uncorked the bottle with a light pop, and handed it to him. Despite its age, the potion still began warming the sorcerer, his skin tingling where it started to mend itself. Ghirahim's face softened a tad only when his master relaxed.

“That impudent worm surprised me,” Yuga said with a faltering smile. “It was dark, so I didn't-”

“There’s no need for that,” Ghirahim waved off his master’s words. “I’m simply… relieved. It could have been worse.” 

That much was true; at least the proof of this duel could be remediated with a normal potion. Yuga nodded in agreement when he noticed Ghirahim’s demeanor shift, his eyes narrowing slightly. The demon swallowed hard and blinked. 

All he knew was chaos as the world shifted beneath him, cleaved from the edges of his conscience. He remembered some things- old things. Lava enveloping him in a warmth unlike any other when he was forged, the sensation of being wielded on the battlefield, his edges scattering souls to the wind. Pain ebbed through his mind as he tried to recall the recent events that landed him here. Ah, that’s right. His master had suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of that legendary nuisance in green. The weapon surmised that when cornered and fatally wounded, his master made the snap decision to spirit him off to a different dimension entirely, away from the immediate threat. Bitterness soured the length of his blade. 

Now abandoned in an unfamiliar place, the demon was trapped within his dormant form until someone worthy came along and wielded his might once more. The thought was maddening. No one in the universe was as worthy to brandish him in war as his old master. The sword lay in a shallow, murky puddle; he could feel it by the muck lapping at the flat of his blade. For the most part, he was alone. He could sense errant passerby approach between indeterminate stretches of time, but none remained for long. Perhaps he radiated a dark aura that discouraged the whelps from even attempting to inspect him. Otherwise, only the close rustling of grass swaying in the breeze kept him company. 

When another pair of boots crunched across the grass to stand in front him, he expected the same result as those who came before. Whoever it was would quickly come to the conclusion that the weapon discarded on the ground wasn't worth taking. This person would ultimately rescue him from his boredom, however. Bending over the sword, an irritatingly familiar face reflected on its surface; curious and innocent, like that loathsome hero. Raven hair framed this face however, and it boasted emerald irises which roved over every notch in the ornate weapon for minutes on end. The demon found the action mildly flattering.

“Who would've left you in a swamp?” Muttered the youthful stranger to himself. If only weapons could talk. The stranger hummed idly and set to work, but to the demon’s dismay, never dared touch the sword with ungloved hands. Its glassy metal surged with energy as a cry for the odd human to make the physical connection but it was instead wrapped carefully in a coarse cloth. The human hoisted the dense object onto his back, his shoulders bearing the brunt of the added weight. At least the demon wasn’t stationary anymore. 

The demon blade bounced against the human’s spine for the entirety of the trek from the swamp to a grassland. The repeated abuse surely developed a bruise as purple as the carrier’s robe underneath, so he sighed the moment he was able to set down his burden. A crude sign above the door to the cottage he’d entered read “Ravio’s.” Simple shelves lined the walls of the interior, displaying various knick-knacks of questionable value and origin. Ravio shuffled to a display hook on a wall where he mounted his newest prize by the hilt with a satisfied smile. This human wasn’t a mere journeyman… he was a peddler! He was going to sell the sword to the first cad to offer the most rupees! The blade seethed on its modest perch. 

Ravio went to greet a bizarre companion and thank it for watching his wares while he was gone; a white bird he addressed affectionately with a scratch under the chin. Sheerow chirped and fluttered his wings in return. While the shopkeeper cooed at his little pet, someone knocked at the door. The sound had Ravio leaping and pulling an eccentric purple rabbit hood over his head to mask his features before tentatively trotting across the room to welcome the potential customer. The figure that darkened the doorstep caused Ravio to shrink slightly. Sheerow flew into a corner to hide his face in his feathers. 

“Welcome,” Ravio stuttered and stumbled to the side meekly as the newcomer strode in. “Is… is there anything I can interest you in today? Looking for something specific?” 

“Certainly,” answered a smooth yet shrewd voice. “I’ll be taking that fine sword there, thank you.”

Any skepticism the demon felt washed away when he noticed an interesting energy emanating from the customer- a rush of malevolence rolled off him like an incoming fog. The demon’s heart sang, begging for the figure to take him. 

“Oh, well that- that one’s not ready for sale yet,” Ravio stammered weakly after the imposing man. “It’s not polished, and I haven’t gotten to set its price…”

“That won’t be necessary. The princess herself has sent me to fetch it,” the man replied, his tone laced with a tinge of annoyance. “You wouldn’t let a petty thing like price keep this from her, would you?” 

Ravio gulped and fiddled with the end of his scarf. If it was an order from Hilda, he couldn’t refuse. He just couldn’t stand the man Hilda chose to retrieve it. Something about the man’s triumphant grin made his stomach churn. Ravio wordlessly went and relinquished the desired item from its display, presenting it to the princess’s confidant. At last, the demon could spy his claimant. Ravio regarded a thin man cloaked in indigo, fiery orange ringlets flowing down his back. A gold circlet graced his head, a red gemstone glaring from its center. He had an air of regality about him that suited the sword just wonderfully. 

“Yuga, I’m not really sure-”

“Your cooperation will be remembered,” Yuga interjected, his painted lips pressed into a smile. He took his leave. The warmth of his palm pressed deep into the hilt of the sword, revitalizing a latent power. 

Yuga stole away across the countryside toward a dreary castle with his new possession, crossing a stone bridge over a bottomless moat in the process. Ruddy clouds draped the darkening twilight sky, night shrouding the landscape behind the man as he slipped inside. The air within the stony halls nipped at his fingers like a greeting as he strode to his chambers. A subtle heat quietly warmed his palms at every point his skin maintained contact with the sword. Yuga shut himself in a medium sized room that smelled of musty carpeting and half-dried acrylics. An old canopy bed sat against the wall shrouded in satin curtains, accompanied by a carved wooden wardrobe and a work desk. 

The moment Yuga stepped a few paces into his bedroom, the metal in his grip flashed a scorching heat that seared his skin. He yelped as the weapon clattered to the floor at his feet. A metallic chime and laughter rang out behind him and he spun on his heels, still cradling his stinging hands with a reproachful look. 

“All in good fun, I assure you,” chuckled a figure who hadn’t been there by the door seconds ago. “I’m simply excited to have a new master, Yuga.” 

Yuga glanced between the sword and the figure standing feet away, a new expression dawning on his features. Just like the blade, the self-proclaimed servant sported diamonds all along his garb. An azure crystal dangled from his visible ear identical to the earrings Yuga wore. He dipped into a bow, a smooth curtain of white hair shadowing half his face.

“Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Lord Ghirahim, the original blade of Demise. And who might my current master be?”

“Do all bees look the same?”

“Well, we're very similar,” Burt replied with a nervous smile.

“I wanna try honey!” 

“Me first!” 

It felt like every luma on the comet observatory buzzed excitedly ever since Rosalina announced they were finally nearing Honeyhive Galaxy. Burt's stomach fluttered despite wishing for home over the course of his extensive journey. Whether or not his fellow worker bees would rejoice with his return or merely continue about their routines was anyone's guess. It's not that his comrades were heartless, they were just efficient and work-minded. Burt watched Rosalina's children as they played ‘bee,’ mimicking buzzing sounds with their mouths as they flew. Their energy was palpable.

“You wouldn't mind if we all visited the hive, would you?” Rosalina asked her winged passenger with a chuckle. “I don't think they'd be satisfied if we didn’t make a stop out of it.”

“Oh, uh,” Burt gulped and wrung his mittens. He didn't want to disappoint the princess, but feared the thought of bringing a slew of unauthorized guests to the queen's domain. But Rosalina was his savior… showing the group his colony was the least Burt could do. The thought renewed his resolve.

“Not at all. A tour couldn’t hurt,” Burt finally answered with a grin. 

Thanks to the Toad Brigade’s assistance, Rosalina’s ship rode smoothly through the stars as it had when Burt first boarded. He could have sworn he caught glimpses of galaxies he’d passed on his way to that initial lonely planet all those hours ago- perhaps even a few he hadn’t noticed before during his past panic. Each cluster of planets boasted its own unique beauty that the honeybee would not have otherwise seen had he not accidentally accompanied Rosalina's cosmic family. A warm sensation bloomed in his chest.

Burt soon picked out a planet in the distance that glimmered like shining amber. Each passing minute made new features visible: outcroppings of lush green, reflective pools and streams, and stepped hexagonal honeycomb etched along the rock faces. Home. A throng of lumas collected around Burt to take in the developing view with hushed awe. Pinprick yellow and black dots peppered the planet surface, landing and taking off in orderly patterns to fulfill their strictly assigned duties. Some of them halted in their tasks when they noticed a foreign space vehicle drawing close to dock. One guard bee came to meet the new arrival holding an upright spear at his side. His stern expression brightened at seeing Burt among the crowd.

“Your presence is requested by the queen,” stated the guardsman the moment he reached his fellow colony member. His words sounded light and surprised, rather than the harsh tone Burt expected from the circumstances. “And bring them with you, it’ll be easier that way.” He gestured behind Burt with his spear to Rosalina, her lumas and the toads. With a sheepish look back at everyone, Burt nodded and led the impromptu procession. Working bees on either side of the group paused to observe them all as most of them experienced their first stroll through the hive. The lumas tamped down their excitement at their mother’s behest, but they still whispered to each other enthusiastically about when they might get to taste their first drops of honey. 

Eventually, the hive opened up around the group to an oasis. Lilypads and purple flower heads drifted lazily along the surface of a clear, shallow pond on which members of the queen's court floated. Centered towards the back sat her highness on a silky throne of purple flower petals and vines. Her eyes widened and she fixed her posture to better see her visitors. 

“You called for me?” Asked Burt in a small voice. He shifted under the queen's scrutiny until she broke the silence.

“Oh honey,” the queen beckoned for Burt and his guests to fully enter the room with a radiant smile. “Welcome home.” 

Burt leapt from flower to flower as the others floated above the water in his wake. Captain Toad and his buddies trudged through the water and tried to keep the splashes to a minimum out of respect. 

“Please fetch our guests something to drink,” the queen asked a nearby servant, who bowed and went for a crystal pitcher of freshly harvested honey. The lumas couldn't contain little squeals of joy to drink the viscous, golden beverage. Once everyone was settled, the queen addressed her subject and his newfound friends with an air of overwhelming relief.

“Now why don’t you tell me all about what happened, dear?”

“You're hurt,” Rosalina knelt down to Burt's level and grazed the burnt fuzz around his neck with her fingertips.

“Please don't do something like that again.”

“But-” Burt frowned. 

“I promised to bring you home,” said the woman with pleading eyes. “I could never live with myself if-”

The comet observatory gave a jolt and a deep rumble, and the main console began blaring an urgent wail. Its screen flashed a warning. Burt threw his hands over the sides of his head. Polari flew out from his prior hiding spot to read the notification on the screen, tailed by the Toad Brigade who filed behind him.

“Our eastern thruster is busted,” announced the luma. “That witch must’ve blasted it when she first showed up.”

Rosalina rose and joined Polari to take the controls. She tapped and swiped quickly, summoning a map with colorful icons. 

“We’ll land in the nearest galaxy,” the princess declared and selected the closest available planetary system. Sputtering, the ship angled itself according to the input coordinates and gradually slowed its course. A trail of black smoke streamed from beneath the ship hull like a meteor. 

All of the passengers hunkered down inside the observatory terrace at Polari's beckoning; the chance of a rough touchdown necessitated ensuring everyone was secured and accounted for. Leaving Rosalina behind at the helm just to sit inside without windows had Burt rocking on his heels. It felt backwards. A colony ruler should be the last person considered for dangerous work- typically, her workers would handle such matters so she would never have to trouble herself like this. 

The air outside crackled and howled against the terrace walls as the ship permeated another atmosphere. Winds battered the ship, causing deep vibrations that rocked the observatory chassis; Burt toppled to the floor from the seasick motion, taking down a couple lumas with him. A monumental tremor kept them grounded there until they realized all had gone still. They had landed. 

A light burning smell lingered on the edge of the air once everyone gathered the courage to open the terrace door and step out. Burt scrunched his nose, his eyes watering from the dissipating fumes. Grey slab bricks littered the observatory floor, some powderized into piles of dust. Rosalina brushed herself off and left her command console to stare up at the side of a lone, desolate building they had crashed into. The structure stood starkly against a sky swimming with waiflike silhouettes, their features contorted in agony. Burt stumbled over himself at the view. 

“Everyone stay close,” called the princess to her family. It wasn’t a difficult request to abide; most of her children already clung tightly to each other, either from their jarring arrival or their new surroundings. A tingle running the length of Burt’s spine told him a broken ship wasn’t their only problem anymore. 

The observatory had busted a sizable hole through the side of the ominous building, thoroughly lodging itself into the debris it created on impact. Pale light cast streaks into a long carpeted hallway lined with paintings and blazing blue candles. Burt could’ve sworn something white dipped out of his peripheral vision. A crow squawked loudly overhead, perched on the edge of the manor’s purple shingled roof. Its talons scraped and tapped a dissonant rhythm. 

“We’ll get right on that repair then,” Captain Toad nodded to Rosalina and then his crew. The fungal team marched to the garage to fetch their tools and get themselves busy below deck. The sounds of tinkering ensued as toads hammered the thruster nozzle back into a decent bell shape, metal bouncing off metal echoing into the misty void. Once the nozzle assumed the proper curvature again, Captain Toad's headlamp shone light on a new issue; the magikoopa's blast had burned a hole through the side of the nozzle rim, and his crew had no remaining scrap from their own ship repairs to make up for it. With a hole like this, exhaust from the observatory's combustion would shoot out the side and weaken their propulsion while in motion. Captain Toad and his buddies hoisted themselves back up to relay the news.

“It'll run, but it won't be safe until we find something to patch it with,” explained the toad to Rosalina.  “If we had a bit more metal, we could just weld it together and be on our way.” 

The rest of the conversation faded from Burt’s mind as he paced aimlessly. Spare metal wasn’t something people typically had lying around. He wondered how long they might be grounded in this eerie galaxy. Turning, the bee noticed a glint shining from within the recesses of the spooky manor interior. Everyone else on deck appeared to be wrapped up in pondering their next course of action, faces following between Rosalina and the fungal engineers. Burt squinted but couldn’t quite discern the source of the reflection, so with a short spurt of his wings, he entered the manor.

Beyond the threshold the air immediately chilled, stinging Burt’s nose. He hovered, keeping the buzz of his wings to a minimum; the instinct was more to avoid alerting any potential dangers, but it also allowed him to listen. A murmur danced on the walls in the hushed silence, growing slightly clearer as Burt reached the end of the hall. 

“What about the garish one with the stripes? I've never seen anyone like him around here before.”

“Me neither. He’s nothing like those blinding star brats. How darling!” 

A pair of voices drifted through the space, their sources invisible to Burt no matter which way he turned. The honeybee shivered and grabbed the dusty silver candelabra that had caught his eye. It stood as tall as Burt's head and required both hands to carry, and Burt immediately found himself too heavy to fly once it was in his grasp. He straightened and bumped into something that knocked him to the floor. Something with a glowing face split by a red mouth with fangs. Burt clasped the candelabra across his torso and squeezed his eyes shut as the ghastly thing chortled. 

“What a cute intruder,” the ghost gushed.

“And a thief,” mused a second ghost behind Burt. “What would an insect need with our decor?” It was true; Burt had barged in and taken something, but desperate times called for creative and sometimes poorly-executed measures.

“Who cares?” Said the first ghost, pressing closer. “I wanna play with him!”

Burt sprung to his feet and brandished the candelabra, daring to open his eyes and stare at the phantom in front of him. The boo blinked and froze, throwing its arms over its eyes and flushing cheeks at the bee’s boldness. An icy sting gouged Burt’s shoulder where the other boo must have swiped at him. Burt staggered to the side to watch both paranormal creatures with a wince. Now both ghosts appeared paralyzed by his surveillance.

“S-sorry,” the bee found his voice. “My friends and I crashed here and need something to fix our ship. Let me have this and I’ll be on my way.” 

Both boos remained where they floated, one peek reinforcing the need to hide their faces. An uncomfortable silence fell between them and Burt. A stalemate. The excitable boo swished its tail and squirmed in place; its companion sighed in an annoyed manner. This couldn’t go on indefinitely. 

“You expect us to just let you take whatever you please and get nothing in return for it?”

Burt grimaced. The honeybee fished around under his small hood momentarily before producing a handful of coins and setting them on the carpet before the disgruntled ghost. The muffled clinking of the offering softened the ghost's scowl. At least their intruder had some good sense. That boo averted its eyes as it swooped down to snatch the money, disappearing through a wall with a quiet harumph. Burt relaxed slightly to see it go without more fuss.

“Cute and considerate,” cooed the remaining boo. “You know, nobody stops by at dead-end places like this. I can tell you're scared now, but… don't be a stranger,” it giggled before fading into nothingness. Burt scurried out of the manor with his shiny prize, not wanting to let the chance slip by this time. 

Although melting the silver into malleable material took quite a bit longer, no more ghouls bothered the comet observatory crew while they were still stranded. Burt wasn't sure there was anything Captain Toad and his pals couldn't do at this point. The bee could feel unease radiating from Rosalina upon his return to the ship, and he made sure to alleviate her concerns by reporting straight to her after his absence.